


Follow The Advice Oneshots

by Geekygirl24



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Crimes & Criminals, Dysfunctional Family, Family Bonding, Family Feels, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-24
Updated: 2018-07-27
Packaged: 2018-10-09 22:27:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10423164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Geekygirl24/pseuds/Geekygirl24
Summary: For everyone who's reading Follow the Advice...Not the Example, you'll know that the timeline is now going through the 1st season of LOT.This story is going to have random oneshots that will take place in between chapters of the main story. Prompts are always welcome :)





	1. Neighbours (3 months old)

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, for all those who are enjoying the story of Lucas Rory-Snart in ‘Follow the Advice, Not the Example’, these are going to be one-shots tying into the main story that people can prompt and ask of me 

“I hate this bloody thing….” Growled Mick, as he struggled to push the pram onto the raised kerb, “… why can’t we carry him?”

“It’s too cold for him outside of the pram.” Answered Len as he entered the rented house “He needs the blankets, and carrying him isn’t going to keep him warm enough!”

Mick rolled his eyes, “Yeah, yeah…. You could at least help me get this pram onto the- “

“- Here.” Interrupted an unfamiliar voice, as the pram became a little lighter and Mick could lift the pram onto the pavement.

Glancing up, Mick nodded his thanks to the strange male.

“You guys the new neighbours?” asked the stranger, gesturing at the house Len had just entered.

Mick nodded, “Yeah, we’re just renting it for a time though.”

After escaping from Iron Heights back in November, the small family had avoided Central City, hopping from town to town until they were yesterday’s news.

“Temporary neighbours are still neighbours!” exclaimed the stranger, who held out his hand, “Nathan Enis.”

Cautiously, Mick returned the handshake. “Purcell. Dominic Purcell.”

“A pleasure. Was that man your….?”

“Husband? Yes.”

Mick tensed slightly, preparing for a negative response, however he was surprised.

“It’s so nice to have a range of families in this area.” Nathan chuckled, “Makes everything more interesting, than just having a street full of white picket fence families.”

Before Mick could answer, Lucas began to cry in his pram, realising that he wasn’t the sole focus of everyone’s attention. Milliseconds later, Len came rushing out of the property, instantly spotting Mr Enis and shifting into his ‘false identity’.

As he ran over to lift Lucas out of the pram, Len turned to Nathan and smiled at him, easily looking far more innocent. “Hi…” he greeted Nathan, “…. Wentworth Miller. I see you’ve met my husband?”

Nathan bought the innocent act easily (which always made Mick chuckle slightly) and beamed at the younger man. “I have indeed. He tells me you’re only a temporary renter?”

Len nodded sheepishly, “I have a temporary work placement here, so it was easier to move here for a little while rather than travelling back and forth.”

“Of course, of course.” Nathan then turned his attention to the sniffling baby in Len’s arms, “And who is this cutie?”

“This is Lucas…” Len gently patted his son on the back, “…. He’s a little moody at the moment.”

Before Nathan could reply, a middle-aged lady came rushing out the neighbouring house. “Nathan!” she called out, “What on earth are you- Oh, hello!”

She beamed at Mick and Len, rushing over and holding her hand out. “Wonderful to meet you! I’m Amber Enis, and you are?”

Taken slightly aback by the enthusiastic greeting, Len and Mick introduced themselves, resisting the urge to take a step back when Amber cooed at Lucas.

“Well aren’t you just the cutest, wittle boy!” she crooned, missing how Len grimaced slightly at the over-the-top baby talk.

As Amber continued to coo, chatting to her husband about their own children back in the day, Mick leaned over to whisper in his partner’s ear, “I always thought you were the cutest…” he muttered, smirking as Len gave a small, pleased smile.

“Even I can’t compete with a baby.” He whispered back.

When Amber finished, she straightened up. “You just have to have dinner with us, I insist!”

Len and Mick tried to protest, explaining that they still had to move in, but Amber shook her head. “No, no, no. I insist!”

Sensing that they were fighting a losing battle, they both agreed, with Mick going to move the pram inside and lock their house before following the Enis’s into their house.

It was clean…. Too clean.

Briefly, Len was concerned that if he sat down on the leather sofa, he would slide right off. 

“Sit down! Sit down!” Amber giggled, “I’ll get you something to drink! Would you like me to heat up some milk for the baby? I babysit for my granddaughter, so we still have some formula.”

“T-that would be nice thank you.”

As the small family seated themselves on the sofa, Lucas began to fuss again. “Here…” grunted Mick, holding out his arms, “… I’ll take him for a little bit.”

Gratefully, Lucas was handed over, settling down as Mick gently rocked him. Less than a minute later, Amber came rushing back into the living room and placed a tray (which had two glasses of coke and a bottle of milk on it).

“I hope the milk’s alright… “she fussed, “… my grand- oh.”

Before she could finish, Mick grabbed the bottle from off the table and began to feed Lucas, grinning as the baby eagerly sucked on the teat of the bottle. 

“Yeah…” chuckled Len, “… I think it’s fine. Thank you very much for the coke Mrs Enis.”

“Please! Call me Amber!” she exclaimed rushing into the kitchen, probably to start dinner. 

The group fell in silence for a couple of minutes, the sounds of Lucas drinking were the only thing that could be heard. Clearing his throat, Nathan grabbed a remote. “Shall we see what’s on TV?” he asked, realising that with his wife out of the room, the conversation had come to a complete stop.

As he flicked through the channels, ‘Hercules’ (the Disney version) came on the screen, just as the muses were beginning to sing. 

“Turn it up honey!” shouted Amber from the kitchen.

Nathan shrugged and smiled sheepishly at Len and Mick, “After five children and several grandchildren, Disney films are her favourite.”

As the muses burst into ‘Zero to Hero’, Mick grunted in surprise when Lucas twisted away from the bottle to try and look at whatever was making the music. Seeing that Lucas had drunk almost the entire bottle, he shifted the 3-month-old around so that he was resting, with his back against Mick’s chest.

Upon seeing the colourful animation and the catchy music, Lucas beamed a toothless smile and began to wave his arms around, making small, squeaky noises in happiness.

“Hey!” exclaimed Len in barely contained glee, “Do you like this?”

Mick couldn’t help but smile at his husband and kid, “Your sister will be pleased. She loves Hercules, and now she has a good excuse to watch it every time she come over.”

“…. Every time? We’re not telling her.”

The pair were interrupted when they heard Nathan chuckle from his arm-chair. “You two remind me of me and Amber with our first kid…” he sighed happily, “… experiencing new things, smiling at things you didn’t think you could even smile at. Enjoy it while it lasts, because soon he’ll start answering back and they’re not as cute then.”

Mick grinned, “If he turns out like Wentworth, then yeah, he’ll be answering back.”

“Rude.”

Smiling at their familiar banter, Mick simply leaned over to give his husband a kiss on the cheek, smirking as a small flush appeared on Len’s cheek.

……………………………………………………………………………………..

As the adults ate dinner (salmon and salad), Lucas was placed in a high chair and angled towards the TV so that he could continue to watch Hercules.

Len kept a careful eye on his son, but was pleased to see that Lucas wasn’t fussed about not being the centre of attention.

Once everything had been eaten, Mick and Len thanked the other couple, made their excuses and left.

“They were nice….” Stated Len, “… I think we’ll leave that house alone when we leave.”

“Even with all that bling she was wearing?”

Gesturing at Lucas (who had fallen asleep in Len’s arms), Len grinned. “We have a full, happily entertained baby who will probably sleep at least six hours tonight. Trust me, we’re not robbing those two.”

“Spoilsport.”


	2. Dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is a lack of Hartley in my main fic, so I'm fixing this :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, for all those who are enjoying the story of Lucas Rory-Snart in ‘Follow the Advice, Not the Example’, these are going to be one-shots tying into the main story that people can prompt and ask of me 

“Hartley…. Hartley.”

Hartley Rathaway mumbled to himself, snuggling deeper into the sofa cushions, desperately trying to ignore the voice from above him.

“Hartley!”

That got his attention.

As quick as he could, Hartley pushed himself into a seated position. Standing to the side of the sofa was Leonard, holding a squirming 10-month-old in his arms.

“Any reason why you’re sleeping on our sofa?”

Hartley winced, which Len quickly picked up on. 

“Another conversation with your parents?”

“… I just wanted to wish Father a Happy Birthday. I guess fa- people like me aren’t allowed to do that.”

Leonard shook his head in dismay, “That….” He glanced at his son, before mentally re-arranging what he was going to say, “… disgusting excuse for a Father. I’m assuming you need a place to stay for a bit?”

Nodding, Hartley grinned as Lucas babbled in his Dad’s arm and reached out for him. “Hey…” the younger man whispered, gently taking a hold of Lucas’s fingers and tapping out a beat on them, “… you okay Lucas?”

As Lucas continued to babble, the door to the main bedroom flew open and Mick came storming out, not even looking at the trio before he wrenched the front door open and left. Leonard watched him leave, a displeased frown on his face.

“A-are you two okay?”

Leonard simply shook his head, “We had a little…. Discussion last night. It’s still a little bit tense.”

“Are you going to work things out?”

“Of course…” Len thought to himself for a few moments, “… I have a favour to ask Hartley.”

“O-okay?”

Len handed Lucas over to Hartley, “Taking Mick on a… spree might help to soften things between us. However, I need someone to babysit… would you mind?”

Hartley shook his head and grinned as Lucas reached up to grab his hair. “I don’t mind babysitting whilst you and Mick work things out…. We don’t like it when Mommy and Daddy are fighting do we?” He asked Lucas, his smile only growing when Lucas babbled in response.

“Actually, it’s Daddy and Papa….” Sighed Len, “…. But I see your point. Fighting’s not good for Lucas.”

Hartley nodded, “Exactly! Don’t worry about Lucas, I’ll look after him.”

“Alright…. You have my number, don’t you?”

“Yes Leonard.”

“The daily schedule is on the fridge and- “

“Leonard, I know!”

Resisting the urge to smile at the younger man, Len lifted Lucas back into his arms and smiled at the baby. “Are you going to be a good boy? Huh?”

Lucas simply beamed, reaching out to grab Len by the nose. The smile soon fell from his face when Len handed him back over to Hartley and headed towards the front door.

“Aaah!” shrieked Lucas, holding out his arms for Len, “AAAH!”

“I’ve just got to leave…” stated Len as he continued towards the door, “… otherwise it’ll only get worse. When I leave, he’ll cry for a bit. He’ll be fine, don’t worry.”

Without another word, Len left the apartment… and then Lucas began to cry.

“Sssh, sssh, sssh…” soothed Hartley as he began to rock the baby back and forth, “…. Your Daddy will be back, I swear.”

Nothing. Lucas kept crying as he wriggled to get free.

Feeling like he couldn’t keep a hold of the baby, Hartley quickly placed him on the ground, smiling sadly when Lucas crawled over to the front door and pushed himself into a kneeling position, banging on the door as he screamed.

“Alright…” sighed Hartley, striding over and lifting Lucas into his arms, “…. Time for a distraction. Let’s see if there’s a radio in this place.”

Gently bouncing Lucas up and down in order to calm him down, Hartley managed to find a radio and switched it to a classical music channel. 

Lucas continued to cry.

“Please Kid…” whispered Hartley, trying to remain calm, “… your Daddy will be back!”

No effect.

“Okay…. Time for desperate measures.”

Placing Lucas back on the ground (and watching him crawl towards the front door again), Hartley glanced around the apartment, grinning in triumph when he spotted the activity walker. Pushing it to the centre of the room, Hartley then went to grab Lucas and place him in the walker.

“There…” he sighed, “… look at all the pretty colours and buttons! Pretty, pretty, pretty!”

Lucas continued to cry for a little while longer, before the sounds trailed off into sniffling and snuffles and he began to play with the toys attached to the walker.

Hartley sighed in relief, “Right…. Schedule. What’s the schedule?”

Making sure that there was nothing that Lucas could hurt himself on, the young man headed into kitchen and scanned the piece of paper on the fridge. “Try and encourage him to walk?” he muttered to himself, “there’s actually time dedicated to that?”

He glanced at the clock, “Right, he’s probably already had breakfast…. So soon it’ll be naptime.”

…………………………………………………………………………………

After Lucas had slept for around an hour and a half, Hartley sat him down in the high-chair and headed back to the fridge, where there was another list of safe foods for Lucas.

“Grapes? Grapes are easy, I can do that!”

Grabbing a handful of grapes, Hartley quickly began to cut them into smaller pieces and place them in a bowl. Upon placing it in front of Lucas, Hartley frowned as the baby sneered, pushing the bowl away.

“B-but, the list says these are your favourites!”

Nothing.

Pulling his mobile out of his jeans, Hartley fired a quick text to Len.

QUESTION. SHOULD I PEEL THE GRAPES?

Barely five minutes passed before he received a reply (which made Hartley feel better, because it meant that they probably weren’t…. you know.

DON’T PEEL THEM. HE’S JUST BEING FUSSY. IF YOU LEAVE THEM WITH HIM LONG ENOUGH, HE’LL EAT THEM.

Hartley sighed in relief, turning his attention back to Lucas…. Who had dragged the bowl back to him and was currently sucking on a grape.

“Oh, thank god.”

………………………………………..

After all the grapes had been devoured (and the bowl thrown to the ground), Hartley took Lucas out of the highchair and took him back into the living room.

As Lucas played with a variety of toys, Hartley decided to settle on the sofa and continue listening to the radio, re-reading the fourth Harry Potter book as Lucas giggled and threw soft building blocks around the room.

Almost half an hour passed, before the music changed to a familiar tune, Hartley grinned as Lucas glanced at the radio, babbling excitedly and clapping his hands.

“Beauty and the Beast? I knew those two were Disney nerds!”

The main theme from the Disney film, Beauty and the Beast, echoed throughout the living room as Lucas giggled. Placing his book down on the sofa, Hartley tiptoed up behind the baby and lifted him into his arms, beaming as Lucas squealed.

“You want to dance?”

Turning Lucas around in his arms, laughing as the baby patted him on the cheeks, Hartley began to sway from side to side. As the music began to pick up, Hartley found himself twirling around and dipping Lucas from side to side, back and forth as Lucas’s giggles turned into full laughter.

Lucas’s laughter was contagious, and very soon, Hartley found himself laughing as well.

“Cute…” grumbled a voice from the doorway.

Almost immediately, Hartley came to a stop and span in the direction of the front door, where Mick and Leonard were standing. They were both smirking at the scene, causing Hartley to flush slightly.

“W-we were just- “

Leonard chuckled as Hartley stammered nervously, striding closer and lifting Lucas into his arms. “You were dancing with him… there’s nothing wrong with that. Were you having fun Lucas?”

As Lucas babbled and cooed, Leonard grinned at Hartley. “You kept him entertained. Trust me, that’s the hardest part about baby-sitting sometimes. Especially with this one.”

Mick nodded in agreement with his husband, “Yeah, he gets bored easily.” He smirked at Hartley, “Thanks kiddo.”

“No problem, honestly!”

“Excellent!” beamed Leonard, “Then you wouldn’t mind doing this next week?”

“Ah I-I-I- “

“- It’s a deal!”


	3. Swimming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, for all those who are enjoying the story of Lucas Rory-Snart in ‘Follow the Advice, Not the Example’, these are going to be one-shots tying into the main story that people can prompt and ask of me 

“Seven am…” muttered Mick in amazement, “…. It’s sad that this is considered a lie-in.”

Leonard smirked, “We don’t have to get up. That’s why I have a toy box for him for our room. It’ll keep him busy for a while.”

After taking their 15-month-old out of his cot, Len had brought Lucas into the Master bedroom and placed him on the bed. Whilst Lucas did lie by his parents in contentment for a few moments, playing with his own feet, eventually he decided that he wanted to sit on the floor instead.

As his parents watched from under the covers, Lucas toddled over to his toy box and began pulling numerous items out, practically throwing them to the ground.

“Why do all his toys make noise?!” grumbled Mick, pulling Leonard closer, “Surely he could learn silently?”

“He’d be bored in seconds and you know it…”

Thankfully, the noisy playtime didn’t last much longer and Lucas began to whine, holding out his arms in a silent demand to come back on the bed. 

“You fussy little brat…” Len whispered fondly, leaning over and lifting Lucas back into his arms, gently laying the baby over his chest so that Lucas could listen to his Dad’s heartbeat, “… up, down. Up, down.”

Soothed by the close presence of his Dad, and his Papa’s hand on his back, Lucas was quite happy to lie for quite some time. As the clock struck 8:15am, Leonard stretched out and slowly sat up, keeping Lucas close to his chest.

“I’ll go and make him some breakfast…” he whispered to Mick, leaning over to give his husband a quick kiss on the cheek, “… you can stay here if you want?”

Mick simply grunted, already practically half asleep.

……………………………………………………………………………….

“That’s it Lucas….” Chuckled Len as he fed another spoonful of oatmeal into his son’s mouth, “… yum, yum, yum!”

“What are you doing?” Grunted a voice from the doorway, causing the other two to glance over.

Upon seeing his Papa, Lucas reached out and beamed. “Papa! Papa! Papa!”

Mick couldn’t help but smile at this, striding over and gently kissing Len on the top of his head. “What’s he eating?”

“Oatmeal.”

Scooping a little onto his finger (ignoring how Len protested about germs), Mick ate the little bit and frowned in confusion. “This ain’t what you usually give him.”

“No…. I was trying something new.”

“It’s nice. Explains why he has oatmeal all over his face.”

Beaming up at his Papa, Lucas smeared the splatters of oatmeal that were around his mouth, over the rest of his face.

Rolling his eyes, Len chuckled at this. “I think this might be the one time he wants to stay in the chair and have more food.”

As Mick went to go grab some breakfast for himself, he heard Len mutter something behind him.

“It was my Mother’s recipe.”

Slowly, Mick turned around and frowned at the sadness in his husband’s eyes. “As in your mom, or Lisa’s mom?”

“…. My Mom.”

Wincing at this, Mick headed back over to his husband, sat by him and pulled him into a one-armed hug. “Tell me about it.”

Len sighed, blinking away tears in his eyes. “She’d make this for breakfast almost every day. Normal oatmeal, with a bit of honey and chopped apples mixed in as it cooked. When she…. Passed, it just wasn’t the same.”

“So…. What made you make this today?”

Shrugging, Len fed Lucas some more, “I just…. Felt like it. No specific reason.”

Mick was unconvinced, but gave Len the benefit of the doubt. “Well…. Now that we know that he likes it, maybe we can have it more often?”

There was a brief silence, before Len smiled softly, knowing that his husband was trying to make him feel better. “I was thinking of taking Lucas to the pool today and- “

“- I’ll watch.” Interrupted Mick, getting up to pour himself a cup of coffee, “Any reason to see you shirtless.”

“Mick…” Len gently scolded, betrayed only by the smirk on his face, “… it’s a public place.”

“Like that’s ever stopped me before.”

…………………………………………………………………….

“And I’m just meant to watch?” exclaimed Mick as he leant over to railing to see his husband exiting the changing room, “No fair!”  
Len smirked, bouncing Lucas in his arms as the 15-month-old reached out towards the kiddie pool. He was dressed in black, swimming trunks (carefully ignoring the glances and whispers from everyone around him at the thin, white scars that lined his upper body and lower legs.). 

Lucas was wearing a dark, blue swim-nappy with blue goggles as he struggled in his Dad’s arm, eager to get to the water.

“Alright, alright…” chuckled Len, gently placing his son on his feet whilst keeping a hold of the toddler’s hand, “… let’s go then.”

Grinning as Lucas went to go sit on the steps that led down into the water, Len gently eased himself into the lukewarm water, turning around on his knees so that he could keep an eye on his son.

“So?” he drawled, raising an eyebrow as his son stayed where he was, “Are you coming in?”

“Daddy yes! Daddy yes!”

So far, Lucas’s vocabulary consisted of “Daddy.” “Papa.” “Yes.” “More.” And “Toy.” He hadn’t quite learnt how to say no yes, which made everything so much easier.

Bath time…. Yes! Enter Lucas’s frustrated face

Bed Time… Yes! Frustration again.

To be honest, Len wasn’t looking to the day when his son learnt how to say ‘No’. Kneeling in the water, Len smiled as Lucas shuffled forwards, sliding from one step to another until he was seated on the last step, half submerged in water.

Gently, Len clapped his hands and smiled encouragingly at him. “Come on…. You can do it!”

A determined frown on his face, Lucas took the final leap and slid himself fully into the water, letting it come up to his shoulders. Once he was fully in, Lucas began to giggle in glee, slowly getting to his feet and toddling towards his Dad, leaping at him for a hug.

Len laughed as his son kicked under the water eagerly, pulling him away from other people who were in the pool. Keeping his arms around Lucas, Len gently swam back until they were in a deeper area.

Once Lucas realised that his was in the ‘big boy’ section, he began to bounce up and down in his Dad’s arms. 

“You want to get your hair wet?” Len asked gently, resisting the urge to squirm when he overheard two women ‘whispering’ about his scars.

“Daddy yes! Daddy yes!”

“Okay. On the count of three. One…. Two…. Three!”

Making sure that his son took a deep breath in and held it, Len bounced and dunked them both in the water quickly, before re-surfacing. Giggling, Lucas wiped his black hair away from his eyes, shaking his head and laughing as Len pretended he’d been drenched.

Len laughed as his son began to splash him again, glancing up to see his husband giving the pair a soft smile, which seemed out of place on someone as large as Mick. He knew that, whilst he was self-conscious about his own scars, he had learned to live with them…. Mick still considered his own as being ugly, no matter how often Len tried to reassure him.

Keeping a careful hold of his son, Len helped him to turn around so that he could see his Papa.

“Papa! Papa!”

Mick grinned at this, waving at his son as Lucas kicked his legs and slapped his hands against the water. After a couple of seconds of frantic splashing (and annoying a few women along the way), Lucas twisted back around and wrapped his arms around Len’s neck.

“Daddy swi! Daddy swi!”

Ever since Lucas had turned one, Len had tried to take his son swimming as much as possible. Not only is it an important skill, but you never know when you’re going to need to get out of a situation using swimming.

Whilst he would help Lucas learn on his own, usually by supporting his son as the toddler kicked and paddled himself forwards, Lucas also enjoyed resting on his Dad’s back as the older man swam.

“Okay, okay…” Slowly, Len lifted Lucas into the air, over his head and back down to the water behind him.

Instinctively, Lucas wrapped his arms around his Dad’s neck as Len leaned forwards. Once Len was on his stomach, Lucas moved to sit on his back, giggling as Len pushed himself through the water.

“Fa’er! Fa’er!”

…………………………….

“How do you still have so much energy?” Len groaned good-naturedly as Lucas toddled around the changing room, “Aren’t you tired?”

“Gah! Gah!”

After managing to dry Lucas and get him into underwear and jeans, the toddler had decided that sitting still was too boring…. Playing hide-and-seek was way more fun.

As he hid under the bench, Lucas grabbed at Len’s legs, giggling when he was able to grab a hold of the older man’s pant legs. Before Len could grab him, he wriggled away, pushing himself to his feet and running away… or at least he tried to.

Due to the wet, changing room floor, Len gasped when Lucas slipped forwards onto his front. There was a tense moment, when he was unsure about whether Lucas would cry or not…. Thankfully, he didn’t.

Pushing himself to his knees, Lucas twisted around to beam at his Daddy. “Oopsie!” he laughed, holding his arms in a ‘what can you do?’ way.

“That’s right, oopsie!” Len bent down and lifted Lucas up, placing him on a changing bench, “Come on, let’s put your t-shirt on.”

“Yes!”

Frustrated face.


	4. Papa and Lucas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, for all those who are enjoying the story of Lucas Rory-Snart in ‘Follow the Advice, Not the Example’, these are going to be one-shots tying into the main story that people can prompt and ask of me 

“Lucas?” 

Len frowned when he wandered into his son’s room. It was 7:50am, and when Lucas didn’t do his usual ‘bounce on the bed’ routine, he grew a bit concerned.

“Lucas? Where are you?”

“Daddy!”

Startled, Len glanced at the bed to see his son rolling out from under it, wrapped in a bright orange blanket. “What are you doing?”

Lucas beamed up at him, “I don’ oh!” There was a brief pause, before he pulled out an action figure of Spiderman… with his arm off. “Fix ‘piderman.”

Kneeling, Len gently took the toy off his son, “You wanted to fix Spiderman?”

“You fix ‘piderman?”

Wincing slightly, Len sighed. “I don’t think I can sweetie, but maybe Papa will try.”

“What if he no do?”

“…. Where’s Houdini, hmmm? Where’s your teddy?”

Wriggling around in his blanket, Lucas pulled out his teddy and beamed, crawling out of his warm cocoon. “He cold.”

“Poor Houdini. Did you have a nice dream?”

Lucas pushed himself to his feet and toddled over to his Dad, “I didn’ dweam ‘bout no one.”

“You didn’t dream about anyone?”

“Noooooo.”

Lifting Lucas into his arms and pushing himself to his feet, Len headed towards the kitchen, placing his son on the floor once they got there. “You want some milk?”

“Yeah!”

“Okay, here we go….” Handing his son a blue sippy cup full of milk, Len quickly poured himself a black coffee, “…. What do you want for breakfast?”

“…Chewos!”

“Cheerios?”

“Yeah!”

Minutes later, Len seated his son at the table, and placed his Winnie the Pooh bowl in front of him, complete with Cheerios topped with blueberries. Once he had a bib around him, Lucas eagerly tucked in. 

Th bowl was quickly emptied, and within seconds of finishing, Lucas began to whine.

“Out! I want out!” 

Grabbing a wipe, Len nodded. “I know, but I need to clean you up first okay.”

“No!”

“You don’t really get a choice.”

Lucas squirmed as Len wiped his face, immediately squirming to the floor when he was done and racing towards the living room, counting each step along the way…. Sort of.

“One, two, three…. One, two, three”

He could only count to three.

Halfway to the living room, Lucas seemed to change his mind, heading towards the stairs.

“Where are you going Lucas?”

“Wakey Papa… wakey Papa!”

Lucas beamed at his Dad through the gaps in the bannister poles, “Wakey Papa!”

“Don’t you want to get dressed first?”

Thinking to himself for a few moments, Lucas nodded, clambering up the rest of the stairs and racing into his room. Len followed, smiling as his son wrenched open drawers and rummaged through them, before eventually pulling out an Indiana Jones t-shirt.

“Dis! And ma hat!”

“Do you really want to want to wear the explorer hat?”

“Yeah!”

…………………………

Around ten minutes later, Lucas was rushing towards the master bedroom and clambering on the big bed. “Papa wakey up! Papa wakey up!”

As he jumped up and down, Len resisted the urge to snigger when Mick yelped slightly in shock.

“Look Papa! Me an explorer! Me an explorer!”

“Great….” Grunted Mick, “… any chance you could explore downstairs for another two hours?”

“No! Wakey up Papa!”

“Lenny… please…” begged Mick, “…. I’ll do anything if you take him downstairs.”

“Anything?”

“Anything… even that thing that you like with your thighs and- “

“- Okay, okay….” Interrupted Len, willing down the flush in his cheeks, “…. How about, you babysit, whilst I rob a bank?”

“You’re gonna rob a bank without me?”

Len shrugged, “All the others are…. Indisposed. Someone has to look after Lucas.”

There was silence for a few moments, before Mick groaned and pushed himself into a seated position, catching Lucas as he leapt towards him. “Fine… but you owe me.”

“Of course.” Len strode over and kissed Lucas on his forehead, “I will see you later, okay?”

“Bye bye Daddy!”

……………………………………………..

“Look, look Papa!” Lucas came running up to him, a mass of purple, red and green playdough all mushed up in his hand, “I made a pwetty flower!”

As Lucas pushed the mush closer, Mick found himself leaning back slightly. “Yeah that’s…. real pw- pretty kid.”

“On the fwidge?”

“I can’t put playdough on the fridge.”

Lucas frowned at this, thrusting the mush closer to his Papa, “But- “

“- no.” interrupted Mick, “I’m not putting it on the fridge, now what do you want for lunch?”

“Uuuhh, chicken wrap!”

Quickly checking the bread bin, Mick winced. “We don’t have any wraps, but we have muffins?”

“No! I wanna wrap!”

“We don’t have wraps, we have muffins. Take it or leave it!”

There was a sullen silence for a few moments, before Lucas nodded sulkily. “Okay….”

“Good.” Mick sighed, “I’m glad you’re happy.”

…………………………………………………………………

After Lucas had stuffed the chicken sandwich and raspberries into his mouth, barely remembering to chew, Mick lifted him out of the seat and the pair sat on the sofa. “Right…” grunted Mick, “… what do you want to watch?”

“Star Wars!”

“No…. pick something else.”

Lucas pouted for a second, before shrugging. “Aladdin?”

This Mick was happy to watch…. Because animated films were snooze worthy. As the opening credits began, Lucas turned to his Papa. “Can you fix ‘piderman?”

“… Huh?”

Shuffling off the edge of the sofa, the toddler raced upstairs, returning a few minutes later with a Spiderman action figure, with one arm missing.

“Fix ‘piderman!”

Mick winced when he saw the separated arm, “Ummmm…. Maybe?”

Lucas didn’t seem to sense the uneasiness, simply clapping his hands and leaping onto the sofa, turning his attention back to the film (and singing along to the songs as it went). Whilst his son was distracted, Mick went to go and grab a glue gun.

With all the toys that Lucas would break, often bending action figures into positions that they weren’t meant to go in. No matter how many times Len told him that Captain America couldn’t do the crab, Lucas just never listened.

Getting a glue gun was the obvious choice.

Time seemed to fly by as Aladdin played and Mick mended the toy… or at least tried to. Grumbling about ‘kids and their bloody toys’ Mick heard the film come to an end, prompting him to glance over at his son.

Lucas was fast asleep.

Thank God.

Placing the, hopefully, fixed toy on the table, Mick turned the TV over to the news and switched their police scanner on, the boring old news and statements reassuring him that Len was still free and probably coming home.

……………………………………………………

A little over an hour and a half later, Lucas stirred and pushed himself back into a seated position. “Papa! Me hungwy!”

Mick glanced up from where he was tinkering with his heat gun, quickly checking the time. It had gone five and Len still wasn’t home yet.

“Papa!”

“Alright. Alright.” He grunted, heading into the kitchen and grabbing a bag of pasta and some meatballs from out the fridge. “I’m cooking. I’m cooking.”

………………………………………………………………………

“Aren’t you going to eat that pasta?” grunted Mick, watching as Lucas simply pushed the meatballs around the place, with the sauce spilling over the side and onto the table.

“Noooooo.”

“Why the hell not?”

“Daddy ain’t here!”

Mick winced at this. It had been several hours since Len had left for the bank robbery, and he still hadn’t returned.

“Lenny doesn’t have to be here for you to eat your tea.”

“Wan’ Daddy to feed me!”

“You don’t need him to feed you, you’re a big boy now remember?”

“Wan’ Daddy to feed me!”

“Pick up that spoon and eat your pasta!”

“NO!”

“Now!”

“Is there really any need for a shouting match?”

Startled by the other voice, Mick and Lucas twisted around in his seat. Leaning in the doorway, Len smirked as both Mick and Lucas’s eyes lit up at the sight of him.

“Daddy!” cried out Lucas, holding out his arms as Len strode forwards, “Daddy!”

Pushing the bowl of pasta closer to his son, Len raised an eyebrow. “What’s this is hear about you needing feeding… like a baby?”

There was a tense silence, before Lucas pouted, grabbing his spoon and shovelling pasta into his mouth.

“That’s what I thought.”

Mick rolled his eyes at this, “Why does he listen to you, but not to me?”

“You’re too soft usually. He knows where he stands with me.”

“I can be stern!”

“Only when he knows he’s really pushed his luck.”

Glancing over at his son, Mick was dismayed to see the toddler smirking as he shovelled the pasta into his mouth.

“Fine….”

…………………………………..

“I can’t believe you….” Muttered Mick as he helped his son wash himself, “… I can be stern, can’t I?”

Lucas didn’t seem to be paying attention, focusing on his toy shark as he hummed one of the songs from Aladdin.

“Hey….” Mick gently splashed water on his son, smirking as the boy scowled at him, “… I can be stern, can’t I?”

As water shot out from the toy shark, straight into his face, Mick growled. “Right… that’s it.”

Squealing, Lucas giggled and laughed as his Papa lifted him out of the bath, turning away as the child get changed into his pyjamas, before lifting Lucas up again and striding to his son’s bedroom. Ignoring how the toddler wriggled, Mick dropped him on the bed and crossed his arms.

“Right…” he muttered, “… this is me being stern. Because you squirted water into my face, you don’t get any free time before bed. No playing. No stories. Nothing.”

There was a brief moment of silence, before Lucas’s face scrunched up and he burst into tears.

“No.” Mick remained firm, “You squirted water in my face and that is not okay.”

“Is that really your best ‘stern’ voice?”

Mick rolled his eyes as Len entered the room, “Lenny please, I’m trying- “

“- to make him cry?”

“He’s only crying to try and get out of his punishment!”

Len nodded, “Oh, I agree…” he then turned his attention to his sobbing son (who was giving his best puppy dog eyes to his Dad) , “… don’t give me that. You squirted water at your Papa, which wasn’t nice. What if the water got in his eyes? It would have hurt, and you would’ve felt bad.”

Pouting Lucas crossed his arms and threw himself back against the bed, glaring up at the ceiling. “Wan’ stowy…” he muttered petulantly, “… please?”

Len and Mick glanced at each other, with Mick shaking his head. 

“No…” he mouthed, “… no.”

Without taking his eyes off Mick, Len smirked. “You have two choices Lucas… either you can have a story now and go to bed early with no playtime…. Or you can have playtime with no story. Which one will it be?”

Lucas was clearly thought very hard about his decision, before he sighed. “Stowy please.”

“Very well.” Encouraging his son to back up and let himself being tucked into bed, Len seated himself on the edge of the bed, “Which story would you like?”

“Hercules!”

“Hercules, it is.”

Len went over to the bookshelf to grab the book as Mick settled down in the chair next to the bed. Once Len returned, he seated himself on the edge and frowned. “Before we start, what should you say to Papa?”

“Sowy Papa!” Lucas quickly apologised, reaching over to give Mick a hug before settling back down, “Stowy now?”

“Story now.”


	5. Park

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, for all those who are enjoying the story of Lucas Rory-Snart in ‘Follow the Advice, Not the Example’, these are going to be one-shots tying into the main story that people can prompt and ask of me 

Len sighed wearily as he watched the neighbourhood teens run past the house, shouting and swearing at each other.

“Remind me why I picked this safe house?” he asked, raising his voice slightly so that it could be heard from inside the house, where Mick was frying up some steaks.

“I dunno!” answered Mick, “You just muttered something about ‘that bloody Speedster’ and now here we are.”

“… I hate it here.”

There was no reply, so Len turned his attention to their almost three-year-old toddler. As it was such a warm day outside, Len had decided to pull a kiddie pool out of the shed (they were lucky to ‘acquire’ a house that used to have young children) and put a shallow level of water in it…. Which Lucas was now scooping out with a bucket and pouring on himself.

“You know, you can sit in the pool Lucky…” chuckled Len, “… that way, you can get wet quicker.”

Lucas, who was dressed a pokemon t-shirt and camouflage shorts, simply squealed in laughter and rushed inside. A few seconds later, he came back out with a plastic tub full of sea-life creatures, and tipped them all into the pool.

“Imma be Awiel!” he announced proudly, climbing into the pool and slapping his hands against the water, swaying his legs and moving the toys around, “Fishy, fishy, fishy.”

This continued on for a few moments, before Lucas clambered back out of the pool and grabbed the bucket again, scooping up more water and tipping it over the flowerbed.

Len couldn’t help but smirk at this. That was one less job he had to do today.

“Daddy! Daddy!”

Glancing down, Len bent down to lift his son into his arms (only wincing slightly when his own clothes grew damp). “Yes Lucky?”

“Can we go park?”

“Is there a park near here?”

Lucas nodded eagerly, “Aha! I saw it when we dwove here!”

“Where?” Len knew which park Lucky was talking about, but he did enjoy testing his son’s observational skills. 

For a three-year-old, Lucas was very focused when it came to certain things…. Like somewhere he can play.

“Well I’m sure we can manage a quick park visit… after dinner alright?”

Lucas pouted slightly, but nodded in agreement, allowing himself to be taken inside and re-dressed in dry clothing before sitting down to eat.

With the prospect of playing on slides and swings on the horizon, Lucas practically shoved the food into his mouth. Once finished, he turned back to Len and beamed at him.

“Park now!”

“Patience Lucky…. When I’ve finished, then we’ll got to the park.”

“…. But I bored now!”

“You have an entire box of toys in the living room. Go and play with them.”

“Okay!”

………………………….

A little over half an hour later, Len and Lucas were on their way to the local park as Mick went through their latest haul, testing the diamonds and other jewels.

“Park! Park! Park!” yelled Lucas as they arrived at the medium-sized field, pulling his hand away from Len’s and running towards the play-area, leaping off a small wall and into the sand below.

“Daddy! Twee-house! Twee-house!”

Near the entrance was a largish plastic ‘house’ that was shaped like a tree, which Lucas ran straight into. 

“One… two…. Three windows Daddy!”

Almost as quickly as he entered the tree-house, Lucas ran back out and headed towards the swings. “Look Daddy!” He ran over to a green seat, intended for babies and shaped like a car seat, “It’s a Daddy swing.”

Len couldn’t help but grin at that. “You really think I’ll fit in that?”

“Yeah!”

“… I don’t think so.” Taking a gentle hold of Lucas’s hand, Len encouraged him over to the toddler swings, “Why don’t we have a play on these for a while?”

“Yeah!”

Allowing himself to be placed in the swings, Lucas giggled as Len pushed him back and forth, eagerly calling out to go higher and higher. From there, the toddler raced over to the jungle gym, rushing up the stairs and sliding down the green slide, and then climbing back up to go on the corkscrew green slide.

“Daddy go! Daddy go!”

As Lucas pulled on his hand, Len couldn’t help but follow his son onto the jungle gym and towards the corkscrew slide. This time, when Lucas went down, he waited at the bottom and called up to him.

“Daddy go!”

“… I think I’m a little big for this.”

“No, no!”

As Lucas started to pout, Len took a deep breath and made his way down the slide, hissing as his sleeve rolled up slightly and his skin rubbed against the plastic. Once at the bottom, Lucas slapped his hands on his Dad’s boots and beamed.

“Gotcha! Tag!” he shrieked in excitement, rushing off towards the large patch of grass next to the park.

“Lucky!” called out Len, trying to catch, “Lucky! Stay where I can see you!”

However, Lucas was having too much fun, racing over the grass…. And straight into a teenage soccer game… and the ball.

“Lucky!”

As the teens all gathered around the toddler, clearly panicking and fretting amongst each other, Len could only focus on his son. Lying on the ground, Lucas was sobbing uncontrollably, hands covering his face.

“What happened?!” asked Len, only just remembering check that he had his glasses on (thankfully, he did), “Lucky? Lucky are you alright?”

Lucas just continued to sob as his Dad lifted him into his arms and began to rock back and forth.

“We didn’t mean to mister!” exclaimed one of the teens, “We didn’t see him until it was too late!”

“Yeah!” agreed, another teen, “And the ball ain’t too hard and we weren’t kicking it really hard! Kids are always running onto the grass!”

Glancing down at the ball, Len noticed that the teens were probably telling the truth. The ball looked like one of the rubberish ones that popped easily and didn’t take much effort to kick around. It was likely that the ball had caught Lucas by surprise, and that was why he’d fallen to the ground.

Not because of the force of the ball, but because of the shock of it connecting with his head.

Sighing wearily, Len thanked the boys, before making his way back home, gently rocking Lucas back and forth as the toddler’s cries slowly calmed down to tearful snuffles. The walk home was short, and almost as soon as the pair entered the small house, Mick appeared in front of them.

“What happened?!” he grunted in alarm, as he lifted Lucas into his own arms, “He fall or something?”

Len sighed, “No. He ran onto a field where some teens were playing football, and ended up with a ball to the head…. Not hard, so the tears are mostly shock related.”

“What the bloody hell are they doing playing football near a kid’s park?! Isn’t there a separate field for them to play on?!”

“That field is the ball game field… it’s not like Lucas can read the signs, warning small children that a heavy football might be being kicked around. Thankfully, the teens seem to realise this, and only use a light ball during the day.”

Mick clearly still wasn’t happy, but backed off and took Lucas to the kitchen, seating him on the counter. “Stay there kid…” he grunted, going to the freezer and pulling out a frozen bag of peas and wrapping it in a tea-towel, “…. Len, keep that on his head. Just in case.”

“I-I don’t think- “

“- Just. In, Case.”

………………………………………

Later that evening, when Lucas had calmed down (and was rather enjoying the attention he was getting), the small family were seated on the sofa, watching the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles cartoon.

“I forgot to ask…” muttered Mick, “… why do you hate it here?”

“…. The layout of the houses annoys me.”

Len rolled his eyes as Mick started to laugh (only laughing harder when Lucas twisted around to glare at him for interrupting his favourite cartoon). “Don’t mock me. Why is the kitchen the first room you come into when you enter the front door? Why isn’t the living room the first room?”

“This is really annoying you huh?”

“More than what you can possibly know.”


	6. Panic Attacks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, for all those who are enjoying the story of Lucas Rory-Snart in ‘Follow the Advice, Not the Example’, these are going to be one-shots tying into the main story that people can prompt and ask of me 

“Breathe.”

Len did as he was told as best he could. His chest was unbelievably tight; he felt the adrenaline pulsing through his veins. Everything was starting to spin. 

Shawna pulled out a syringe. 

They were going to sedate him. But he didn’t want to sleep. He couldn’t afford to relive it again, in another nightmare. His wounds hurt like hell, but he had to stay awake. He had to stay in control.

“No,” he said as Shawna got ready to inject him. “I’m okay.”

“Snart, your heart rate is abnormally high. You’re having a panic attack. The drugs will help you relax,” Shawna said. She placed a hand on his shoulder, comfortingly.

“No,” Len repeated. He squirmed slightly. He needed to get up, get out. His body wouldn't cooperate, though, as the pain was too intense. He looked over at Mick; silently begging for him to intervene.

He didn’t.

“All right.” Shawna put down the syringe, just before she injected him “You don’t want drugs? Then you’d better get your heart rate down. If you can’t do it in five minutes, you’ll be getting them whether you want them or not.”

“Thank you,” Len gasped out, his eyes squeezing shut as he took deep breaths as Shawna measured his pulse.

“Your heart rate’s insane right now, and you’re lying down.” Shawna sighed, removing her hand from his wrist and stepping back, giving him some space. “Try and keep breathing deeply. Concentrate on something that comforts you.”

Len tried to draw in a deep breath, but the tightness in his chest wouldn’t allow it. His breathing grew shallower and more rapid.

“Why don’t you try thinking about Lucky? He’s about four now, right?”

Len nodded.

“Do you get along?”

Another nod.

“Think about him, then,” she instructed.

The memories came flooding back. The knowledge that they could be in danger. In danger because of because of him.

“Not safe,” Len gasped. “He’s not safe.”

“All right, Snart. I’m revoking your pass to make yourself suffer.” She picked up the syringe again. “I’m going to give you the drugs now.”

“He’s not safe,” Len repeated, frantically attempting to sit up. Shawna gently pushed him back down onto his bed. “Can’t breathe,” Len added; then, everything started to spin, faster and faster and faster until it all went black.

When he came to again, he felt foggy but undeniably calmer.

“Welcome back, Lenny,” Mick said, smiling down at him. “Are you feeling any better?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Now why don’t you try and get some real rest? Your body needs to recover.”

Len didn’t answer; instead, he simply slipped back into sleep.

Meaning that he missed seeing his son dart away from the bedroom door.

………………………………………………………

“Are you sure that you don’t want us to come inside with you?” Mick asked, scrutinizing Len.

“Yes,” Len replied. “I appreciate the offer, but I should be fine.”

“All right.” Mick parked the car right outside of Lewis Snart’s old house, the house that Len grew up in. “Get the stuff and get some rest,” he added. “You look like hell.”

“Will do.” Len unbuckled his seatbelt, opened the door, and stepped gingerly out of the car. “Thanks for the ride, Mick.”

“No problem. I’ll see you in a few hours, Len.”

“Good night,” Len replied, and then shut the car door. He turned away from the car once it pulled out into the road again and towards his old house. 

It took him a few minutes to realize that somewhere, deep down, he was dreading the moment he’d have to open the door and step back into the place where he’d been abused for years. He didn’t fully recognize it until he was standing at the door to the house, turning the key in the lock. 

He took a deep breath. It would be okay, now; he’d caught it in time, so he’d be able to stop himself from overreacting to anything.

But the minute he actually laid eyes upon the spot where he’d once been shoved against the wall and punched in the gut until he passed out, and saw the hole in the wall that Lewis’s bullet had left when the older man had taken a pot shot at his son, his body informed him that he couldn’t have been more wrong. 

His heart started racing; he began to sweat, and shake; he felt horribly nauseous. And he couldn’t breathe. That was the toughest part to control. He’d tried various different strategies with Mick, but nothing had worked. 

Shawna offered to steal him a prescription for an anxiolytic; he’d refused to take it. That would make it all too real.

So now here he was, entirely alone, feeling that bastard punch him all over again. Len shut his eyes and reopened them in an effort to chase away the images; that didn’t work, either. He felt himself growing faint from the lack of oxygen, so he stumbled over to the sofa and collapsed down upon it. That way, were he to pass out, he wouldn’t end up hurting himself.

Len pulled his cell phone out of his pocket with trembling hands and stared at it for a few seconds before tossing it onto the floor. 

Who could he possibly call? 

He couldn’t call any of the Rogues. 

Mick, who he considered an equal, was more of an option. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t share this, not even with Mick. He wasn’t ashamed, per se; it was just, well, private. It was something he’d have to learn to deal with before being picked up later tonight; otherwise, he’d really need to get good at concealing it.

Lucas couldn’t see his Dad like this.

……………………………………………………………………….

He was exhausted. But as the van started, Len knew that the last thing in the world he could do was fall asleep. 

Almost every time he did, he dreamed about it. Waking from the nightmares was never easy. He’d find himself lying in a cold sweat, or end up shaking uncontrollably for longer than he’d want to admit. When he was home, alone, it didn’t matter how undignified he appeared after the nightmares or the occasional flashbacks, but he was back with his team and family now.

Maybe it was merely vanity; somehow, however, he doubted it. 

He knew that if he were to display any signs of the PTSD he knew he had, they’d start second-guessing him even more than they already did. 

He had to keep it from them. So he’d stay awake, no matter what.

At least, that’s what he thought until his eyes shut and he drifted off into a deep sleep.

The next thing Len knew, Lucas’s hand was on his shoulder, steadying him. 

Everything was spinning; he couldn’t speak, couldn’t even breathe. 

The seven-year-old was speaking to him, but Len couldn’t understand anything he was saying. He gently pushed his son away without a word and shuffled over to the corner of the back of the van, shielding his face from the others.

He needed privacy. 

He couldn’t let Lucas see him go through this. 

His breathing was shallow and rapid. He had to control it. He had to, or he was going to pass out; that, he now knew from experience. 

Len hit the side of the van as hard as he could with a clenched fist, and tried to focus on the resulting pain. 

It wasn’t enough. He still couldn't breathe.

Len shut his eyes. The adrenaline had left a bitter taste in his mouth. His stomach churned. 

Seconds later, he was bent over, vomiting up the few morsels of food he’d managed to make himself eat at dinnertime. When the nausea finally abated, Len passed out completely, collapsing against the van wall…. Missing the alarmed cries of the Rogues and his family.

When he came to, his chest was still far too tight. 

But he could move again. 

He felt everyone watching as they gathered around him, with the van having been pulled over to the side of the road.

Nobody asked him whether or not he was all right. 

Nobody spoke.

“Mick….” Len scowled, “I do want to go home at some point today.”

Whilst everyone else took the hint and back away (giving the vomit a wide berth), Lucas didn’t and babbled at him.

Len didn’t know what he was saying; he couldn’t understand, couldn’t comprehend anything but pure panic. 

He stared straight ahead. 

He couldn’t let this get out of control, not now. He’d have to make it through this ride, and then he could go and relax somewhere. 

But first he had to get through this. 

He was starting to shake; that was absolutely unacceptable. He had to make his mind go elsewhere, at least for five more minutes.

He started trying to mentally list all the jobs he’d pulled since he began his career… That helped a little. 

As soon as they arrived back at the safe house, Len cut a path through them and went into the closest quiet place he saw: namely, his room. He felt his legs buckling beneath him; not a second too soon, he sat down. 

He was perspiring heavily. 

He coughed; just as he did so, he looked up and saw that Mick and Lucas were coming in. 

Before Len could say anything, Mick placed a cup of tea on the table. “Here....”

“Thank you.” 

He could have asked him why. 

He could have said that he was fine and didn’t need anything at all. But that would have taken too much effort, so he simply accepted Mick’s small gesture.

“Lenny,” Mick said, eyes meeting his, “are you alright?”

“I’m fine Mick.” Len lied. He took a sip of tea. “Why don’t you re-join the rest of the team? I’ll be right in.”

“Okay.” Mick smiled awkwardly before exiting the small room, taking a protesting Lucas with him.

Len breathed a sigh of relief. That had been close. Too close. But he’d made it through and, right now, that was all that mattered.

……………………………………………………………..

The sky was cloudless, and the air was clear. 

Len sat down on the park bench and took a deep breath. He liked to take Lucas here as often as he could. He could see Lucas going down the yellow slide, and then sitting on one of the swings. 

And yet, he couldn’t focus completely.

Then again, how could he when every moment had the potential to trigger pure panic in him? 

He had to stop. He had to stop. It was stopping him from doing decent work on their missions.

… But what if he couldn’t make it stop? 

He’d tried everything short of seeing a psychiatrist. But he couldn’t be on tranquilizers and be out robbing places effectively; he just couldn’t. 

Len stared down glumly at the ground…. What if Lucas just remembered him for being weak?

As the thoughts whirled, Len felt the now familiar tightness begin to take hold of his chest. He tried to take a deep breath, and failed. Lewis had destroyed him, hadn’t he? He’d left him unable to stay in control of his own mind, his own body. 

He felt himself start to sweat; his hands shook uncontrollably. His body was ready to start sprinting; his mind was urging him to get up, to run far away from this place. 

But he couldn’t listen to either. He couldn’t let himself get accustomed to giving in; he had to fight it with every bit of strength he had left.

He sat there fighting it until the sun began to set (which Lucas was thrilled over). He could have gone home with his son when this started, and hid in his room.

But it was important that he let his broken brain know that he was still in control, at least to some extent. He had to have that. Without it, he’d truly have absolutely nothing left.

By the time Len returned to the apartment, it was dark. 

He turned on one light and crashed down onto the couch as Luca bid up good-night and rushed into his room. 

The panicky feelings had yet to completely subside, but they were significantly less severe than they’d been at the park. That was something, at least. 

Len rubbed his forehead. His head hurt, and he was exhausted. He was going to fall asleep whether he liked it or not; he could only hope that, this time, he wouldn’t wake terrified.

Five minutes later, he could practically feel someone watching him.

Mick.

His chest tightened as he opened his eyes and stared up at his partner. “Is something wrong Mick?”

“You want some company?” Mick asked.

“Not particularly,” Len admitted. “Why?”

“Well, I was expecting you home earlier. I thought we could order Chinese, relax, watch one of those crappy sci-fi films you like…. But Lucas said you seemed tense.”

“You’re checking up on me, aren’t you?” Len drew in a slow, deep breath. “I’m fine, Mick.”

“I can’t wonder why you were home so late without being accused of ‘checking up’ on you?” Mick paused. “Listen, Len. I don’t need the late time or Lucas to know that you’re miserable. Don’t think that I don’t notice what’s going on with you. Up until now, I’ve let you save face by not mentioning it, but those days are over.” 

When Len didn’t answer, Mick asked, “So, are we gonna have this chat in our room or out here?”

“… Can we just stay here?”

Len didn’t have the energy to argue with any of Mick’s claims. It was so much easier just to give in, and he had to admit that it felt good to be able to stop pretending that everything was fine.

“It just happened, didn’t it?” Mick asked.

“What just happened?” Len responded.

“You are not going to play this game with me. You had a panic attack recently, didn’t you? Barring an event like that, there’s no way you’d let me do this.” Mick sighed heavily.

“I’ll be fine.”

“You know, there are people you can see about issues like these, Snart,” Mick said. “And nobody – nobody – would hold it against you, if that’s what concerns you.”

“I’ll be fine, Mick,” Len said. He was sweating, and his hands were trembling. It was starting again. But he’d get through it; he always did. He didn’t need anybody to help him. He was always fine, in the end.

“That’s bullshit.” Mick sighed again, “I can see you shaking!”

Len groaned. His anxiety level was uncomfortably high, but it had yet to erupt into a second full-fledged panic attack.

“Did you get the license plate number?” Mick asked.

“What?”

“The license plate number of the truck that ran you over, Len. You look terrible… Do you think some food will make you feel better?”

“Not particularly, no,” Len admitted.

“Adrenaline will do that to you.” Mick sighed before approaching Len. “I wish you’d let us help you.”

“Has Lucas noticed?” Len asked, feeling his anxiety increase even more at the thought of that.

“To some extent, he has. He has your brains Lenny, you can’t really hide anything from him.” Mick looked at Len concernedly, then added, “It’s okay. It’s totally understandable, after everything you’ve experienced.”

“No, it’s not. It’s not okay.” Len forced himself to pause and take a deep breath. He was beginning to shake, so he sat back down on the sofa. “I can’t lead the Rogues like this….”

“It gets better.” Mick joined Len on the sofa. “It’d get better a lot faster if you weren’t too proud to see somebody about it, but even if you don’t see anyone, it’ll get better, eventually.”

“I don’t have the time for ‘eventually,’” Len said, shutting his eyes. His heart was racing, and he was beginning to feel nauseous. “No,” he muttered, more to himself than to Mick. “Not again.”

“Breathe, Len.” Mick reached out and placed a hand on Len’s shoulder. “I’m going to get you a cup of tea, okay? You lie down and just keep taking deep breaths.”

“Mick, I–”

“Don’t speak.” Mick disappeared for a few minutes; when he returned, he raised a cup of lukewarm tea to Len’s lips, and let him take a few sips. “I’m here, okay? I’m here.”

“Thank you.”

When Len finally fell asleep, for the first time, he did not dream.


	7. No Sleep Tonight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, for all those who are enjoying the story of Lucas Rory-Snart in ‘Follow the Advice, Not the Example’, these are going to be one-shots tying into the main story that people can prompt and ask of me 

“He’s still awake…”

 

Len groaned, throwing his arm over his eyes.

 

“… why d’ya start reading Harry Potter to him?”

 

The walls of their new safe-house were thin, so the couple could hear spell being uttered and exactly what the imaginary foes were saying and doing during this battle.

 

For a four-year-old, he had an incredibly expressive vocabulary…. Len blamed Mark personally.

 

He moved to get up, pushing himself into a seated position… until he felt Mick’s gentle hand on his shoulder, pushing Len back into a horizontal position.

 

“I’ll deal with it…” he grunted, “… You’ve not slept for thirty-six hours, and if you have to deal with Lucky any longer, you’ll collapse.”

 

“But- “

 

“- But nothing.” Mick straightened up and grabbed a shirt, pulling it over his head, “I’ll take him out in the van. It’s meant to help small children sleep.”

 

“Mmmmm.”

 

Len was already half asleep as Mick headed out of the door, walking straight into his son’s room.

 

The light was on and Lucas was standing in the middle of the room, Harry Potter glasses on his face and a fake wand in his hand, eyes wide in alarm before he darted into bed and pulled the duvet up over his head.

 

“Give it up brat…” Mick rolled his eyes, walking over to the bed and removing the duvet, “… we know you’ve been awake since Lenny put you to bed three hours ago.”

 

Lucky was silent, staring up at him.

 

“Can’t sleep, huh brat?”

 

“Nuh-uh… too awake Papa!”

 

Mick knew the feeling. Both he and Len suffered from bouts of insomnia… it was unlikely that Lucas had the same issue, but every so often, every child was unable to sleep.

 

“Alright…” he grunted, lifting Lucas into his arms and heading towards the front door, “… we’re going to go for a drive, maybe get some late-night take-away and hopefully, you’ll be asleep before two.”

 

Wrapping the small child in his parka, googles and a scarf, Mick then took his out to the car and wacked the heating on. “Alright kid…” he muttered, glancing over as his son was putting the seatbelt on, “… where d’ya wanna go?”

 

“To the park! To the park!”

 

“It’ll be full of drunks at this time kid…. But we’ll drive around that area, ‘kay?”

 

“Okay!”

 

Lucas eagerly clapped his hands as Mick set off down the road and onto the main street, “Faster Papa! Faster!”

 

“Not when there’s cops everywhere brat. We’re not on a job, there’s no need to go faster.”

 

There was a brief period of pouting, before Lucky seemed to forget what he was sulking about and turned his attention to the sights passing by the window, watching the lights pass by.

 

Around ten minutes into the drive, Mick glanced over, frowning when he realised that Lucky was still wide awake…. And unlikely to fall asleep any time soon.

 

“You wanna listen to some music kid?”

 

“Disney! Disney! Disney!”

 

“…. You sure you wouldn’t prefer some rock?”

 

The withering glare that the four-year-old sent him, seemed to say “No”, so Mick placed one of the Disney tapes in the player, mentally preparing himself for an hour of hell.

 

And then Second Star to The Right from Peter Pan started to play.

 

Lucky loved Peter Pan, and this was his chosen lullaby song.

 

“The second star to the right

Shines in the night for you

To tell you that the dreams you plan

Really can come true

The second star to the right

Shines with a light that's rare

And if it's Never Land you need

Its light will lead you there

Twinkle, twinkle little star

So, I'll know where you are

Gleaming in the skies above

Lead me to the land we dream of

And when our journey is through

Each time we say "Goodnight"

We'll thank the little star that shines

The second from the right.”

 

As the song played, Mick hummed along, hoping the extra soothing tones would help send the four-year-old off to sleep. 

 

For the first verse, it didn’t seem to have any effect, however, by the end of the second verse, Lucky was resting his head against the window, mouth open and drooling as he slept. Slowly, he headed back to the apartment, parking outside and gently lifting his son into his arms.

 

Lucky remained fast asleep even as Mick removed his coat, scarf and goggles, before carrying him back upstairs. However, instead of taking Lucky to his own room, Mick carried him into the main room, slowly laying down next to Len (who thankfully was fast asleep), letting Lucky fall asleep on his chest.

 

“Mmmm…” Len snuffled happily in his sleep, rolling over and snuggling up to Mick, “… he asleep?”

 

“Finally, yeah… go back to sleep Lenny. Everything’s alright.”

 

Needless to say, it didn’t take long for Len to doze off, leaving Mick the only one awake.

 

And he still was an hour later.

 

“Great…” he grumbled, trying not to move too much in case he woke Lucky up, “… now I’ve got that bloody song stuck in my head.”


	8. Heist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, for all those who are enjoying the story of Lucas Rory-Snart in ‘Follow the Advice, Not the Example’, these are going to be one-shots tying into the main story that people can prompt and ask of me 

CRASH!

 

Len glanced up from his blueprints, narrowing his eyes in the direction of the living room. “Lucky?”

 

Silence.

 

He groaned under his breath, pushing the papers to one side and getting to his feet, just as Mick came charging down the stairs, his eyes still glazed over in sleep.

 

“What the hell was that?” he growled, glancing at the living room as there was the sound of a xylophone playing, “That the kid?”

 

“I suspect so, but- “

 

CRASH!

 

“- forget it, it’s Lucky.”

 

The pair headed over to the living room door, and peered in. 

 

“Tie-fighters!” Lucky was shouting, playing a quick chime on the xylophone, and pointing to his R2D2 figure, “Plot an escape route R2 and be quick about it!”

 

He leapt onto the couch and ran along it, climbing onto the back of it and making laser noises as he rocked from side to side, his rebel pilot helmet tilting on his head as he did so.

 

“We need to get away! We need to get away!” He then fell back onto the cushions of the sofa, giggling as he rolled off and then started to race around the furniture, jumping on and off the chairs and sofas.

 

“What’s he doing?” Mick grumbled, his eyes falling on all the toys on the floor, “Lenny?”

 

Len was simply standing there, a soft smile on his face. “He’s playing Star Wars…. He’s being a little rebel.”

 

“You won’t think it’s cute when he’s a rebellious teenager.”

 

Lucas seemed to have finally realised that he was being watched, laughing as he ran over to his parents. “Look! Look!” he cheered, pointing to his helmet, “I’m fighting the Empire!”

 

“Are you winning?”

 

“Duh! The rebels always win!”

 

“And rightly so.” Len lifted Lucky into his arms, and tickled him on the tummy, “And would the little rebel like a medal like what Luke got?”

 

Lucky nodded eagerly, “Yeah, yeah, yeah!”

 

As if by magic, Len made one appear from within his sleeve, holding it out as Lucky squealed in joy. As the four, almost five-year-old, gently grabbed the medal and put the medal over his head, Len carried him into the kitchen, “Remember, little rebels need to have lunch before they go on any adventures.”

 

“We’re goin’ on an adventure?”

 

Len nodded, pulling the ingredients out for a sandwich. “We’re going to the casino near the docks.”

 

“I get to play poker!”

 

“No…” Len smirked, “… you get to be the distraction when my and your Papa hold up the armed guards who take all that lovely money away. Fancy being the lost little boy who really needs those nice guards to help him?”

 

Lucky thought to himself for a few moments, before nodding eagerly. “Can I wear my helmet?”

 

“Of course you can…” When Mick frowned, Len leaned closer to him and smirked, “… it adds to the cuteness. The guards won’t be able to resist him.”

 

…………………………………………………………………………………………………..

 

“Did you hear that?”

 

Mikey turned to John, money bags still in his hands as he glanced around, listening as carefully as he could. “…. Hear what?”

 

“Listen!”

 

The pair fell silent… and then Mikey could hear it.

 

A soft sobbing coming from just around the corner.

 

“Lock up the money…” Mikey ordered, “… you keep watch here. I’ll go and see what’s happening.”

 

“It sounds like a kid… “

 

“It sounds like a distraction.”

 

John fell silent, watching as Mikey placed the bags of money into the van, before shutting the heavy doors and locking it up carefully, remaining where he was as his companion heading in the direction of the sobbing.

 

“Jackass.” He mumbled…. And then everything went black.

 

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

 

Mikey was quick to spot the small boy sobbing in the alleyway…. It was hard to miss the giant Star Wars helmet on the boy’s head.

 

Cute.

 

“Hey kid!” he called out as gently as possible, “Are you okay?”

 

The child glanced up at him, tears still streaming down his cheeks as a fresh wave of sobs bubbled up. “N-N-No! I lost my M-M-Mummy!”

 

Crap.

 

Mikey knelt down in front of the child, trying to seem as nice and friendly as he could. “Was she… was she in the casino?”

 

The child nodded, “I-It was too noisy! I got scared a-a-and I wanted to get out! B-but I can’t find her now!”

 

Mikey saw it all the time. Parents go into the casino when on holiday with their family, and the promise of winning big distracts them from the kids.

 

Disgusting, really.

 

“Alright kiddo… “ Mikey got to his feet and held out his hand, “… come with me and let’s see if we can find your parents.”

 

The kid scowled at the hand, “Mummy says I’m not meant to go with strangers.”

 

“Wise advice… but I’m sort of like the police. I help protect the money when it goes to the bank.”

 

“Like in the movies?!”

 

At the kid’s enthusiasm, Mikey sighed in relief…. He really didn’t fancy trying to get the kid out of the alleyway by force. “Yeah, like in the movies… do you want to see?”

 

The kid nodded eagerly, taking Mikey’s hand and allowing himself to be lead out of the alleyway.

 

However, as soon as they left the alleyway, Mikey knew something was wrong…. John was just lying on the ground, and the van was open and empty.

 

“What the- “There was a sharp pain on the back of his head, and then darkness.

 

………………………………………………………………………………………………..

 

“Nice work Lucky…” Len lifted his son into his arms and smiled at him, as they headed back to the car, stepping over the unconscious body, “… I think such good work deserves a cut of the profits.”

 

“Really?!”

 

“Really?” Mick also asked, almost in unison with his son, “He’s a kid!”

 

“Even children should get paid Mick….” Len quickly buckled his son in, before reaching into his pocket and pulling out several hundred-dollar bills, “… Now I don’t mind you having one of these bills to spend, but the rest should go into a savings account… agreed.”

 

Lucky nodded eagerly, too excited about the prospect of having one hundred dollars to spend on whatever he wanted. “Yeah, yeah, yeah!”

 

“Good boy.”

 

Handing the bill over, Len smirked as his son practically shoved it into his pocket. He then moved into the passenger seat as Mick quickly sped off.

 

“You’ll regret starting this when he’s older…” his partner muttered, “… what happens when he starts buying drugs or stuff.”

 

“We’re going to raise him right Mick.”

 

“But- “

 

“- But nothing Mick.” Len glanced at him, “We’re raising him right and that’s that.”


End file.
